All you want for Christmas is a biodegradable, made from post-consumer materials yoga mat.
The manager at Home Depot offers you a job because you know more about their hardwood-flooring stock than their hardwood-flooring specialist.
You have interns reporting to you.
Receiving your box of new business cards is the best thing that’s happened to you all week.
You can say to a teenager “when I was your age…” in a non-ironic way.
You no longer consider flip-flops to be appropriate outdoor footwear.
You realize it’s not necessary to take 1,000 photos of you and your friends every time you go out for drinks.
At 7:00, you’re still at work, with no foreseeable exit time. You send a text message home that says: “Have. Gin. Ready.”
The suburbs suddenly seem appealing.
You buy yourself flowers.
There’s at least one photo out there that can prevent you from having a viable career in politics… but may help launch your career as a page-6 socialite…
People start asking you if you have children.
People start giving you things to take home for the children you don’t have.
Small children start mistaking you for their mothers.
Instead of asking you “when was your last period” and “do you have a rich boyfriend yet,” your doctor slips a handful of condoms into your purse.
They Told Me to Find a Rich Husband 
you’re ecstatic when you get carded
you’re happy about being able to hang an outfit back in the closet after wearing it once (’cause there’s no spit-up, little fingerprints etc. on it)
sleeping in ’til 8a.m. is, well, sleeping in
going to sleep at midnight is a late night
I’m already at the “8 AM is sleeping in” and the “midnight bedtime is staying up late” stage… luckily, haven’t reached the new-outfit saved from spit-up phase…
it’s still the “happy about being able to hang an outfit back in the closet after wearing it once (’cause there’s no beer/red-wine/friend’s vomit stains on it)